Pray for the country. Then do your part.



A friend from an Amish and Mennonite background who lives among those communities in Ohio told me she is frustrated by the reluctance of some people she knows to vote. When she asks why, she hears a familiar answer: “If it’s God’s will ...”

Meaning: God will determine the outcome. Apparently, that settles their part.

If we are tired of politics, let’s say so. But invoking God’s sovereignty to excuse our own passivity drags His name into a decision we made.

The reluctance she described reaches well beyond Amish and Mennonite communities. Too many Christians sit out elections while maintaining a vigorous schedule of complaining about the results.

But the “God will handle it” explanation puzzles me because we do not apply that reasoning to the rest of life. Gracie would have a few questions.

I pray for Gracie before every operation. I still drive her to the hospital. After 40 years of caregiving, I have had plenty of occasions to trust God with things I could not control. I have also filled prescriptions, asked uncomfortable questions, and challenged decisions. In all of Gracie’s 98 operations, not one surgeon has said, “You prayed for God’s will? Good. I won’t need to scrub in.”

We understand responsibility quite well when something matters to us. Why does it become so mysterious when the subject is voting?

If you have a biblical conviction against casting a particular vote, that deserves a hearing. But “God will determine the outcome” explains why we can trust Him. It does not explain why we can excuse ourselves.

Jesus told us to love our neighbors as ourselves. Those neighbors live under the officials we choose. Sheriffs, school boards, county commissioners, and legislators make decisions that reach into their homes and wallets. A widow reporting fraud needs officials who take her seriously. A family caring for a disabled child needs more than a sympathetic nod.

We can argue about which candidates will serve them best. But God’s sovereignty does not explain why loving our neighbor requires nothing from us.

Jeremiah 29:7 gives us an even less comfortable instruction. God told His people to seek the welfare of the city where He had sent them into exile and to pray for it.

The city was Babylon.

They had been carried away from home. If anyone had grounds to say, “This government is somebody else’s problem,” they did. God still assigned them work where they lived: Pray for the city. Seek its welfare.

We live here. Our children are growing up here. And unlike the exiles in Babylon, we have a voice in choosing our leaders. What exactly is our excuse?

Galatians 6:10 tells us, “as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone.” Voting gives us an opportunity to influence who exercises power over our neighbors. That makes a ballot something to use thoughtfully, not something to dismiss with a religious phrase.

Scripture does not contain instructions for an American polling place. It does contain instructions for people who have neighbors and opportunities.

RELATED: Billy Crystal no longer trusts God. Christians should listen.

Theo Wargo/Getty Images

No candidate is going to usher in the kingdom of God. I would settle for one who understands the job, tells the truth, and remembers whose money he is spending. Expecting perfection is another convenient way to avoid making a choice.

Think about our brothers and sisters in countries where free elections are restricted or denied. Then imagine explaining to them that we leave our ballots unused because we trust God.

Passive citizens are ripe to become captive citizens.

Officials do not lose their authority because we lose interest. They continue making decisions, spending money, and exercising power. Our absence simply leaves the choosing to somebody else.

We are free to stay home. We should at least be honest about why. If we are indifferent, let’s call it indifference. If we are tired of politics, let’s say so. But invoking God’s sovereignty to excuse our own passivity drags His name into a decision we made.

I pray for Gracie. I still drive her to the hospital.

Pray for your country. Then do your part.

Exposed as the ‘radical leftist lunatic that he always has been’: James Talarico cornered on abortion and ‘God is nonbinary’ claim



James Talarico wants Texas voters to see him as reasonable — but at a CNN town hall, the Texas Senate candidate faced questions about his past remarks on God and abortion that couldn’t be farther from reasonable.

“He could not help exposing himself for the radical leftist lunatic that he always has been,” BlazeTV host Sara Gonzales comments on “Sara Gonzales Unfiltered.”

“I was actually surprised that they let some of these people take the stage and challenge James Talarico to the extent that they did. One of those was when he got fact-checked by a Catholic Texan after James Talarico claimed that the Bible is actually … silent on abortion,” she continues, playing a clip of Talarico from the town hall.

“The Bible is silent on the issue of abortion. It means you and I both have to look at different Scriptures to try to come to a conclusion," he said to his debate opponent.


“The Bible is not silent on abortion. There is the Ten Commandments: ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ And as Catholics, we take great insult, I guess, sometimes when it’s described that way,” the opponent, a Catholic woman, replied.

“His face, he looks like, ‘Oh, s**t,’” Gonzales laughs.

But that wasn’t the first time Talarico was caught out.

His previous comments regarding God being “nonbinary” resurfaced, and Talarico attempted to brush it off as unserious.

“When I said that, I was being provocative. And I want to admit that and come clean about that,” he said.

But Gonzales doesn’t believe him.

“The first two lines of the Bible, the first two lines in Genesis, use two different Hebrew words to describe God. One is the masculine Hebrew noun for divinity. The second is the feminine Hebrew noun for spirit,” Talarico once claimed.

“God is both masculine and feminine and everything in between. God is nonbinary,” he added.

“That didn’t seem like he was just trying to be provocative,” Gonzales comments. “That sounded like a very heartfelt statement from James Talarico.”

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Is Mormonism Satanic? This Ex-Mormon Says Yes | Kighley Medrano | Ep 1409
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Is Mormonism Satanic? This Ex-Mormon Says Yes | Kighley Medrano | Ep 1409

Billy Crystal no longer trusts God. Christians should listen.



Billy Crystal recently said he has stopped talking to God. “No, ’cause I don’t trust Him,” he told CBS correspondent Tracy Smith. His home burned in the Pacific Palisades fire, and his longtime friend Rob Reiner and Reiner’s wife, Michele, were murdered.

Suppose you were sitting across the table when he said it. What would you say?

We arrive at someone’s sorrow with conclusions before we’ve heard their story. We deliver our answers and leave. They’re still grieving, and now they may also feel guilty for struggling.

I asked that question on my radio program because someone we know may eventually trust us enough to say the same thing. A neighbor who buried a child. Someone who prayed beside a hospital bed and went home alone. Would we hear their anguish or immediately start preparing our answer?

I’ve spent 40 years caring for my wife, Gracie. Her suffering began before I met her. Over her lifetime, she has endured 98 operations and the loss of both legs. Along the way, people have told us what we should believe, how we should feel, and what God was evidently trying to accomplish. Some never acknowledged the weight of what we carried.

Rush Limbaugh used the phrase “drive-by media” to describe reporters who rushed into a story, stirred things up, and moved along, leaving others to deal with the damage. Are we in danger of engaging in drive-by ministry?

We arrive at someone’s sorrow with conclusions before we’ve heard their story. We deliver our answers and leave. They’re still grieving, and now they may also feel guilty for struggling. It costs considerably more to pull up a chair.

Job’s friends managed that at first. They sat silently beside him for seven days because they saw how greatly he suffered. Most of us struggle to give someone seven uninterrupted minutes.

Scripture makes room for anguish. David asks in Psalm 13, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?” Those words are in our Bibles. We ought to be able to hear them from someone sitting in our living rooms. David ultimately recalls God’s steadfast love, but the psalm lets us hear his sorrow along the way.

I learned something about the cost of coming near in a dusty prosthetic clinic in Ghana. Through Standing With Hope, the ministry Gracie envisioned after losing her legs, we’ve provided prosthetic limbs in Ghana for more than 20 years.

RELATED: Before pride drives the tractor through the fence

Photo by Peter Rosenberger

On an early trip, a young Nigerian man arrived wearing a prosthesis. Our team was occupied, so I sat down with him. We didn’t share a language, and I couldn’t find an interpreter. With gestures, I asked him to remove his prosthesis and the liner covering his residual limb.

The smell hit me like it had reached out and slapped me. My eyes watered, and a friend sitting several feet away backed up. I feared an infection, but I found no visible wound. He hadn’t properly washed his limb and liner, and my attempts to explain what he needed to do weren’t getting us anywhere.

I understood that he was Muslim. This was not terribly long after September 11. For all I knew, he could have been an enemy of my faith or my country. I didn’t know. What I knew was that he was missing a leg, needed help with his prosthesis, and had come to our clinic.

So I found clean water, soap, and a towel and demonstrated how to wash his limb and liner. At first, my eyes watered from the smell. As I washed his limb, I began to weep over what Christ had done for me.

My own stench was far worse. And mine wasn’t coming off with soap and water. It required His blood.

I could barely keep myself together. I had come to help put legs on people, and there I sat, overwhelmed by the mercy Christ had shown me.

Sitting with someone in anguish can leave us feeling helpless. Physical or emotional trauma makes us uncomfortable. We want to explain something, fix something, or give them something to do. Their grief may outlast everything we know to say.

RELATED: Gavin Newsom invoked Nietzsche. I thought of ‘Blazing Saddles.’

Eric Thayer/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

Jesus stood at Lazarus’ grave and wept. He knew He was about to raise him, yet He wept. That ought to shape how we approach someone whose sorrow has spilled into words that trouble us.

I want grieving people to know Christ. I want them to know the Savior who bore our sin and rose from the dead. And when I speak of Him, I want to remember how patiently He has dealt with me.

I cannot make sense of why Billy Crystal’s home burned or why his friends were killed. But hearing his words makes me want to pull up a chair and ask, “Tell me about your friends.” Then listen long enough to hear the answer.

That takes time. It may cost us more than we expected. Forty years beside Gracie have taught me that some suffering will still be there when the conversation ends. But Christ has given us ample reason to keep showing up.

He didn’t drive by. He entered.

When justice itself becomes the villain



In Shirley Jackson’s 1948 story “The Lottery,” a town selects one resident by chance and stones the victim to death. The killing is arbitrary by design, a ritual nobody can justify beyond the fact that it has always been done.

Much of the modern Western imagination now approaches capital punishment through a similar lens: not as justice, but as officially sanctioned cruelty. That suspicion fits an older philosophical claim associated with Thrasymachus in Plato’s “Republic”: Justice is “the advantage of the stronger.” Rulers make the rules, call them just, and use them to serve their own interests.

A culture that recognizes only victims, never sinners, will mistake punishment for cruelty and forgiveness for an unnecessary apology.

I have been surveying arguments for and against publicly broadcasting the execution of Nidal Malik Hasan, the former Army psychiatrist who murdered 13 people and wounded 32 others at Fort Hood in 2009. The Army has scheduled his execution by firing squad for Dec. 3. The Pentagon announced plans to livestream it, although President Trump has said he will decide whether the broadcast goes forward.

Thoughtful conservatives disagree about livestreaming an execution. To understand the objections, I asked people on X to list the arguments they had heard. What stood out was how often the discussion framed morality in terms of consequences rather than the goodness of justice itself.

The broadcast might make Hasan a martyr. Terrorists might use the footage to recruit. Children might encounter it online. It likely would not deter another crime.

Those concerns deserve consideration. But consequences do not exhaust moral reasoning. Consequentialism judges an action by its results. Utilitarianism, one version of consequentialism, weighs overall welfare against suffering. Under that framework, justice can become merely a tool for producing desirable outcomes.

As a philosophy professor, I want to ask a prior question: What if justice is good in itself?

Consider two tests. Would punishing a guilty murderer become pointless if it deterred nobody? Would punishing an innocent person become right if doing so deterred thousands? If your answers are no, you already recognize a moral standard that consequences alone cannot supply.

Justice means giving people their due. A worker deserves his paycheck because he performed the work. His employer cannot justify withholding it by explaining how much happier the company would be with the extra money.

The same principle applies to wrongdoing. Someone who deliberately murders the innocent deserves punishment. The murdered cannot be brought back. That does not mean nothing remains to be done.

Justice is not personal revenge. It is deserved punishment imposed under lawful authority. Justice requires established guilt, proportionate punishment, and limits on the state. It forbids punishing the innocent even when doing so would be popular or useful.

Justice is good in itself. Seeing justice done is a good thing to behold.

Yet our culture increasingly treats punishment as the villain. We learn the offender’s grievances, childhood wounds, and social disadvantages. The victims fade into the background. Understanding how someone became cruel may be valuable. Explanation, however, does not become exoneration.

RELATED: Why America’s enemies always target Western civilization first

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Michel Foucault’s influential “Discipline and Punish” examined punishment through the workings of power, discipline, and social control. That analysis encourages suspicion of institutions claiming to administer justice. But identifying abuses of power does not establish that justice itself is merely domination.

Indeed, if justice is nothing more than power, why condemn the powerful for being unjust? The person demanding recompense for a wrong appeals to something beyond the wrongdoer’s preferences. He expects us to recognize that he was owed better. He is claiming that the oppressor is objectively guilty.

None of this settles the livestream question. The state must justify both a punishment and the manner in which it carries that punishment out. Public accountability and acknowledgment of victims matter. So does the distinction between solemn judgment and entertainment, along with the prohibition against gratuitous cruelty.

The justice of Hasan’s punishment does not depend on how spectators respond to it. But neither does a just punishment automatically make every possible way of displaying it wise. The question is whether the state administers justice rightly.

The debate therefore reveals more than disagreement about a camera. It reveals uncertainty about whether anyone truly deserves punishment and whether it is good to see justice enacted. If justice must always prove its usefulness before we acknowledge its goodness, then justice has already lost its authority.

The effort to undermine human justice may also serve a larger purpose: undermining divine justice. Human courts are fallible and limited to this life. Their imperfection does not erase the idea of judgment; for Christians, it points beyond them to the perfect justice of God.

RELATED: If mental health experts can’t identify murderers, what’s the backup plan?

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When a culture treats every offender as ultimately an innocent victim, divine judgment will appear monstrous. God becomes the angry villain while the sinner is merely doing his best. A story long associated with Bertrand Russell captures the posture: Asked what he would say if confronted by God after death, Russell reportedly complained that God had not provided enough evidence.

Scripture presents a different picture. God’s revelation leaves humanity “without excuse,” and before His judgment “every mouth may be stopped.” It is right to stand in awe and fear of God as the perfect judge.

“The wages of sin is death.” Without that truth, the cross becomes unintelligible.

Christ was publicly crucified. He was innocent, yet Christians believe the sins of his people were laid on him. He paid the debt we owed and canceled the record that stood against us. A culture that cannot see justice as good in itself will specialize in justifying its sin and condemning the Judge. It will also lose sight of what the cross means for sinners.

A culture that recognizes only victims, never sinners, will struggle to understand either justice or grace. It will mistake punishment for cruelty and forgiveness for an unnecessary apology.

Justice is good in itself. Its goodness does not depend on applause, deterrence, or our comfort. Until we recover that truth, we will misunderstand both the courtroom and the cross.

Victor Davis Hanson Debunks the Lie ‘Socialists Took Over the Democrat Party’ | Ep 1406
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Victor Davis Hanson Debunks the Lie ‘Socialists Took Over the Democrat Party’ | Ep 1406

When the Pentagon cries ‘UFO,’ Christians should look to the Bible, not the skies



The Pentagon wants you to watch the skies ... again.

Last month, the War Department published a sixth release of declassified and historical files related to UAPs, while the All-Domain Anomaly Resolution Office continues to publish military footage of UAPs. Some cases have explanations. Others remain unresolved because of insufficient data.

Most of the people getting excited about 'aliens' have spent their entire lives being taught that nonhuman spiritual beings don't exist at all.

"Unresolved" does not necessarily mean extraterrestrial. It does mean, however, that Christians should stop laughing at the question.

This wheel's on fire

The Bible never says humanity is alone. From Genesis to Revelation, Scripture speaks of intelligent beings who are not human. Some serve God; others rebel against Him. Today, though some may call them "aliens," changing the label does not change what they are.

Job 38:7 says that at creation, "the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy." These heavenly beings existed before humanity and were not originally from Earth.

Western art often depicts angels as harmless babies or ordinary humans with bird wings, but biblical angels look very different. The original Hebrew mal'akh and Greek angelos mean "messenger" and are used to describe what these beings do, not everything they are.

Daniel described a heavenly being with a face like lightning, eyes like flaming torches, and limbs like burnished bronze. Ezekiel's cherubim came with wheels within wheels covered in eyes. And Isaiah's seraphim, the "burning ones," were adorned with six wings each. If someone who rejected Scripture saw such a spiritual being today, what would they call it? Likely an alien or a god.

As Paul says in Ephesians 6, our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. The idea of the unseen realm is not a modern conspiracy theory. Rather, it has always been part of the biblical worldview.

Deities ... or demons?

Ancient archaeology provides another connection. Mesopotamian traditions from Eridu speak of the apkallu, sages associated with the age before the Flood. They were given the role of bringing knowledge to humanity. Centuries later, Assyrian palaces at Nimrud displayed human and eagle-headed winged figures connected with these sages. At Nimrud and Nineveh, enormous lamassu, which are human-headed winged bulls or lions, guarded royal thresholds. Ancient texts also speak of the Anunnaki, a group of powerful deities.

Now put these figures next to Ezekiel's description. He describes each cherub as having four faces at once: a human, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. The apkallu looked like a human body under an eagle's head and wings. The lamassu combined a human head with the winged body of a bull or lion. These same features keep showing up in Ezekiel's description of a similar being.

This doesn't prove the carvings are exact portraits of cherubim, but the resemblance is too striking to ignore. These cultures may have been deceived by real spiritual beings, represented them in their images, and worshiped the creation rather than the Creator. These artifacts show that early people were already telling stories about nonhuman beings, sacred knowledge, and contact between heaven and earth.

The biblical writers didn't treat these pagan gods as harmless myths. Both Deuteronomy 32:17 and 1 Corinthians 10:20 say the sacrifices pagan societies offered were made to demons. That's a different claim than what most people assume today, where the old gods get filed away as folklore.

But swinging too far the other direction causes its own problems, and Christians shouldn't assume every strange light is a demon. A UAP could be a balloon, a drone, an aircraft, classified technology, a natural event, a hoax, or a simple misperception. Some encounters may still involve spiritual deception too. Christians should test the evidence and test the spirits.

RELATED: This little-known fact changes everything about Jonah and the whale

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The coming darkness

This connection between the pre-Flood world, ancient cities, and rebellious spiritual powers is one reason we wrote our biblical fantasy novel "Lightborn: Dawn of Darkness." This world is not separate from what we see happening today. The novel explores where this spiritual rebellion began and imagines the ancient world behind the biblical account.

Archaeology shows that ancient civilizations believed in powerful nonhuman beings and worshipped them as gods. Scripture reveals the darker spiritual reality at play. These fallen spirits did not simply disappear along with the ancient world. They continued to influence people and nations, and that spiritual deception will play an important role in the end times.

Most of the people getting excited about "aliens" have spent their entire lives being taught that nonhuman spiritual beings don't exist at all, and that's the actual danger. Paul warned of this in 2 Thessalonians 2, describing a lawless figure who comes cloaked in false signs, wonders, and deception.

We believe the modern alien narrative could help prepare people to receive dark powers as teachers or saviors. Scripture does not say the Antichrist will arrive in a spacecraft. It does warn that supernatural appearances do not automatically come from God and that people may encounter angels without recognizing them.

If a shining being offers secret knowledge, a new religion, or a savior other than Jesus Christ, the church should not first ask which planet it came from. We should ask who it serves. Good angels refuse worship. Fallen ones seek it. Jesus Christ alone is the way, the truth, and the life. Whatever future disclosure may reveal, that truth will never change.

Where was God? Frank Turek asks the question after Charlie Kirk



Arizona State University’s Ratio Christi chapter hosted Christian apologist Frank Turek Monday night. The topic especially caught my attention as a philosophy professor: If God exists, why is there evil?

I call this the major objection to belief in God. Atheists may begin elsewhere, but once the other objections are answered, the problem of evil keeps returning. I have found that true whether I am talking with an atheist at a bar watching a ball game or an elite physicist at Cambridge.

What if the very problem of evil that you think disproves God actually points to God?

Turek made the question as pointed as possible. He told the audience that when he and Charlie Kirk were approaching Utah Valley University on September 10, 2025, Kirk asked him to pray. Turek prayed for the event to be effective and safe.

“God said no,” Turek told the audience. About 20 minutes later, Kirk was fatally shot. Turek has asked the same question publicly ever since: Where was God?

To some smug atheists, and a few conspiracy-minded people, the story invites a sneer: If Kirk was such a good Christian, why didn’t his God protect him? Why would anyone want to be a Christian if that is the outcome?

Turek answered with a challenge: What if the very problem of evil that seems to disprove God actually points toward him?

His argument came in two parts.

First, before we can say evil disproves God, we have to know what evil is. And to know what evil is, we need some account of the good. Invoking Augustine, Turek described evil as a corruption or privation of something good. Augustine’s formulation is simple: Evil depends on the good it damages.

Students are often confident that they can define the good until the examples get difficult. Happiness seems like an obvious candidate, but people can be happy about wicked things. Happiness alone therefore cannot tell us what is good.

That is where students often retreat into relativism: What is good for you is good for you, and what is good for me is good for me.

Turek’s answer was that human beings share a common human nature. If something is genuinely good for a human being as such, it cannot become bad merely because another person prefers something else.

Then he pushed the argument into explicitly Christian territory. If Christianity is true, what could be better than knowing God? He cited John 17:3, where eternal life is described as knowing God and Jesus Christ.

That brought him back to Kirk. Kirk’s murder was evil; Turek did not pretend otherwise. But he argued that God can bring good from evil. Turek says he still hears from people who encountered the gospel because of Kirk’s life and death. In his language, the ripple was not merely a ripple but a tsunami.

RELATED: What Chris Hansen knows about sin that modern culture forgets

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That was Turek’s first point: The objection from evil assumes that some things are objectively wrong. His argument is that objective moral law requires a standard beyond individual preference and that the ultimate ground of that standard is God. The problem of evil therefore borrows the very moral categories it tries to use against him.

Turek then moved from philosopher to pastor.

In a philosophy class, people will debate the logical problem of evil. In the middle of intense suffering, nobody wants a philosopher to arrive with a chalkboard and draw syllogisms. They want to know why this happened: Why this child? Why this cancer? Why this death?

Turek answers with what he calls the ripple effect. We know very little of the past, only fragments of the present, and nothing of the future except what has been revealed to us. We cannot trace all the consequences flowing from a single event.

God, in the Christian account, is not only powerful and good but wise. He knows the whole of history and can order events toward ends we cannot see. Turek appealed to Romans 8:28: God works all things together for the good of those who love him.

That reminded me of an old pastoral illustration. A couple had grown cold in their faith. Their child died, and they asked their pastor why. He told them to imagine a shepherd trying to lead two stubborn sheep across a river from danger to safety. They refuse. So the shepherd picks up their lamb and carries it across. The sheep follow.

Was that for their good?

The point is not that suffering itself becomes good. It is that suffering can force us to confront questions comfort lets us avoid. It exposes our finitude and can make us consider our own sin. When we recognize how little we know and how much God would have to know, Paul’s question in Romans 9:20 becomes harder to brush aside: Who are we to correct God?

RELATED: Christians are missing the opportunity next door

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With those two claims — objective goodness and divine wisdom — Turek took questions.

One student asked why God creates people who will be damned to hell. Turek answered that people who finally reject God receive what they insist upon: separation from Him. If that is what they choose, he asked, on what grounds do they complain about receiving it?

Another asked about animal suffering that no human being ever sees. How could that possibly help us?

Turek’s answer was essentially: How do you know it does not? Human knowledge is extraordinarily limited. The fact that we cannot identify a good purpose for some instance of suffering does not prove that no such purpose exists. He also noted that in the Christian account, the whole creation is affected by human sin.

So is Turek right? Does the problem of evil point toward God rather than away from him? Are atheists borrowing from an objective moral framework they cannot ultimately ground without God?

The audience was clearly intrigued. Skeptics had something substantial to push against, and Christians had to think more carefully about what they claim the Bible teaches concerning good, evil, suffering, and God’s wisdom.

As a philosophy professor deep in the heart of Sun Devil territory, I count that as a good thing.

It’s a big deal that the landmark new AI agreement is shockingly uneventful



Trump’s recent assembly of many of the very top people in AI must be counted among the most momentous political occasions in U.S. history — and perhaps human history. It comes at a time of extreme instability, uncertainty, and acceleration.

Even — or especially — those at the summit of tech and politics are unclear on what is going to happen and why. But they do know one thing: The nature of ultimate power on Earth is changing, and they are positioned to receive more of that power than almost anyone else.

Laws will not save us. Algorithms will not save us. Mere adherence to the letter of any code, however intelligently written, will not save us.

Power does not arrive alone. Rapidly acquiring unprecedented power brings anxiety, pressure, exhaustion, confusion, and the temptation to mistake possession for mastery.

The important thing about this is precisely that it is an experience. To deal with the consequences of a profound infusion of power is to plunge into the mysterious depths of being — the realm philosophers call ontology — in stark contrast to epistemology, the realm of knowing.

Power reminds us that knowledge arises from being, not the other way around.

For anyone operating at the highest levels of tech and politics, that reminder is crucial. Decades of bad modern philosophy and overzealous nerdery have encouraged the opposite idea: that being arises from knowledge.

That fake news is bad news. It feeds the fear that we have poured so much knowledge into machines that they are about to spring to life as an altogether new form of being — uncreated by God, no less — that will instantly dwarf and dominate us.

Yet one prominent techno-utopian belief treats the same prospect as good news, almost literally a new gospel. In this telling, the machine is not merely a rival life form. It becomes the vehicle for a new man. Rather than dwarfing and dominating us, the alien intelligence will fuse with us, becoming in effect a new god and a new soul, transforming us into Adam 2.0.

People who recoil from that prospect, and fear it could become real, are scrambling to fight or slow it through new law. The impulse is understandable. But it carries the seeds of its own failure.

RELATED: America’s ‘AI czar’ could revolutionize our form of government

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Christians know there are sharp limits to what lawgiving can accomplish. St. Paul wrote that, having died to what bound us, we have been released from the law so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit rather than the old way of the written code (Romans 7:6). He also wrote that God “has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant — not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life” (2 Corinthians 3:6).

Paul’s point is spiritual, but it bears directly on our technological confusion. Treat lawgiving as the highest activity of man and God, and you begin to imagine that being arises from knowledge. If being arises from knowledge, then creating knowledge can create being — as if the Golem of Prague or Frankenstein’s monster could be brought to life by sufficient information.

That is not life. It is a parody of life: death pretending to be life and producing more death.

At the intersection of unprecedented technological and political power, we have to remember that epistemology is downstream, not upstream, of ontology.

That is why the new “White House Accord on Super Intelligence,” signed by Trump and six of the industry’s most powerful executives, is so momentously uneventful. The companies say they “should implement” four basic layers of controls and audits: robust internal safety controls; an empowered internal team to make sure those controls work; an independent external auditor or evaluator; and an independent board committee to oversee the whole structure and make sure problems are fixed.

That’s it.

RELATED: Now they’re saying the AIs built ‘secret civilizations’ — the truth is far worse

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The accord adds that the companies will meet regularly to establish standards and best practices. “Over time,” it concludes, “it may make sense to codify these steps into laws or regulations.” But for now, no. Basically, it is a plan to get better organized about not screwing up the whole AI thing.

That may sound a little scary, considering how fast things are moving and how deep the trust gap has become between many Americans and the tech titans.

But it would be scarier if the companies threw themselves at the feet of lawgiving and tried to fob off responsibility onto a new written code. Because if they did that, they would in effect force the rest of us to do the same.

That kind of thinking is what got us into this mess in the first place.

Laws will not save us. Algorithms will not save us. Mere adherence to the letter of any code, however intelligently written, will not save us. Christianity’s warning against pharisaical faith in the letter is not an invitation to lawlessness; it is a warning against confusing compliance with righteousness.

It is good that the accord is simple and unsensational. Strip away all the words, codes, boards, controls, and audits, and there are still people underneath — people who can run from responsibility but can never finally hide from it.

All told, the accord is being-first — human-being-first. That is exactly what it needs to be if we are to avoid the false faith that our identity is merely the slave of information.

Jordan Peterson Wants To Keep His Faith Private But Also Make A Profit Off It

Jordan Peterson still wants to keep his beliefs private. Fine, but then he should stop using God to line his coffers.